


My Lips Could Build a Castle

by FredAndGinger, SpinalBaby



Series: Boarding School? More Like Boring School, Am I Right? [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beauty - Freeform, Christmas, Combeferre has a dick pic blog, Enjolras's Dad is a Dick, Everyone is a little rich boy, F/M, M/M, Marius is a fuck up, Multi, Panic Attacks, Piningjolras, SO SAD, about Jehan, agnst, also great, church, drunkjolras, it's pretty great, musichetta's mom is the real hero, my poor baby Enj gets a black eye, there's like a turf war, valjean takes them to church, with the Patron Minette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5203181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FredAndGinger/pseuds/FredAndGinger, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpinalBaby/pseuds/SpinalBaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Amis attend a boarding school for rich young boys. In this, the first part of their senior year, Enjolras is being slightly abused at home, Grantaire becomes his friend with benefits, Combeferre and Courfeyrac get together, Jehan breaks up with Montparnasse and invokes the wrath of three-fourths of the Patron Mintette, Enjolras gets drunk at Christmas, and Valjean takes them all on a field trip to a church.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Lips Could Build a Castle

Enjolras tugged on his sleeves as he unpacked his suitcase, wishing he could take off the shirt or at least roll up the sleeves without worrying about Combeferre coming back to the room and seeing his arms. There were bruises and Enjolras just didn’t want any questions. 

Enjolras had been going to Corinth Prep School for Exceptional Young Men since he was eleven, and he’d been rooming with Combeferre from day one. They were best friends, along with Courfeyrac. They’d gotten a good friend group together over the years, consisting of most of the kids in their grade. They called themselves The Amis, because when they were in french in seventh grade they thought it sounded cool and now it kind of stuck. 

Enjolras came from a very wealthy family. His father had become a senator three years ago and the man was kind of an asshole. He had high expectations for Enjolras and expected him to follow all of his rules unquestioningly, and when he did question the rules his father was harsh. He generally only yelled and maybe slapped him around a little, nothing too major. The bruises were just because he didn’t listen well enough and his father felt the need to grab his arms and shake some sense into him. He had grabbed Enjolras too hard and left finger-shaped marks that Enjolras was now left to deal with. 

As if thinking of his name had summoned him, Combeferre entered the room and started unpacking his stuff as well, talking idly about random stuff. Combeferre’s phone buzzed and he looked down at it. 

“Everyone’s getting together in the dining hall, we can unpack more later.” He said, and they went down to the lounge to see all their friends. 

“I mean, we could unpack our stuff first,” Enjolras said, even though they’d already left the room, “We just saw each other like two days ago at the beach.” 

“We’re already on our way.”

The two ventured down the stairs, walking into the dining hall where everyone was already gathered. Courfeyrac looked excited to announce something, bouncing a bit in his seat next to Jehan, who was talking with Gavroche, a first year middle schooler that he used to babysit, and also Eponine’s little brother. Marius was arm wrestling with Bahorel, looking like he was about ready to cry, trying his hardest, but Bahorel hardly seemed to be putting in any effort, slightly turned to talk with Feuilly. Joly and Bossuet were both chilling on another couch with Grantaire, who was ignoring everyone to sketch. Enjolras smiled a little when he saw all his friends, somehow it calmed him to see nothing else had changed.

“Now that everyone is here, Jehan and I broke up over break, but we’re still friends.” Courfeyrac practically shouted.

Enjolras looked over to his friend Combeferre, watching his well hidden internal victory and smirking a little. He was well aware of how much Combeferre liked Courfeyrac behind that serious and nerdy exterior.

“Thanks for letting us know.” Bahorel chuckled, quickly pinning Marius’s arm to the table.

“Aw man, it’s no fair… you always win.” Marius sighed.

“That’s because you suck.” Gavroche stuck out his tongue.

“Now Gavroche, that’s not nice.” Jehan smiled sweetly, brushing some of his soft gingery hair from his face. Jehan had the most beautiful hair, long and wavy and always soft. Enjolras secretly envied it, his own hair soft and wavy, but not quite so long.

“So, other than Marius still sucking and Courf and Jehan breaking up, what’s new?” Bossuet asked, “Anything new with you Enjolras?” 

Enjolras’s comfort disappeared as he touched the edge of his sleeve, making sure it was still there, “No. No, not really.”

Combeferre was the only one who seemed to notice their leader’s shift in attitude.

“How about you, Ferre?” 

“Oh, same old, same old. Just got the newest addition to my moth collection shipped in from Brazil. It’s this rare-”

Combeferre was interrupted by Courfeyrac who stood up, “Let’s all go hang out at the Musain!” Everyone was rather grateful for the suggestion, not really interested in hearing about this rare breed of moth that Combeferre still had yet to pin to it’s block.

The Musain was a cafe/hangout on campus that the Amis had practically claimed as their own in their Freshman year. Other people did mill about in the building but the Amis took up the majority of the space there, so there really was never too many strangers there. There the Amis were comfortable and basically free to be as loud as they wanted. It also doubled as overflow storage, mostly for Jehan’s sweaters and Courfeyrac’s- well, basically anything Courfeyrac couldn’t fit in his dorm he shared with Marius.

They returned to their dorms late at night, Combeferre sighing while he complained about how no one wanted to listen to him about his moth collection and for just a brief moment- a brief moment too long- Enjolras let his guard down as he switched into his night shirt.

“What are those?” Combeferre asked, noticing the bruises on Enjolras’s arms as he changed his shirt.

“Nothing.” he said as Combeferre took his wrist, pulling up his sleeve. The bruises were distinctly hand shaped.

“Who am I beating up?” Combeferre asked, looking at his blond friend, eyes in a cold stare. No one was allowed to hurt his friends, and though he trusted that Enjolras could take care of himself in a fight, he’d like to put his fist in whoever did this’s face.

“No one.” Enjolras said, pulling his sleeve back down. “It was nothing, really. I’m not going to talk about it.” He added, when Combeferre looked like he was going to protest. 

“Fine.” Combeferre said, crossing his arms and looking disapproving, “I’m going to go to Courf’s room and see if he needs me to help him unpack anything.” 

Combeferre left the room with a sigh. So much for senior year being relaxing. He felt like a drama queen, walking out like that. Courfeyrac must be rubbing off on him. 

He got to Courfeyrac and Marius’s shared room. It was a disaster zone already, Marius was rooting through one of his suitcases, throwing clothes all over the floor, while Courfeyrac was lazily sitting on his bed, his stuff in a weird heap next to his dresser, watching something on Netflix. 

“Hey guys.” Combeferre said, sitting on the bed next to Courfeyrac and looking at what was on his screen. It was Parks and Rec. 

“Hey.” Marius said, while Courfeyrac just nodded, engrossed in his show. He glanced up at Combeferre and paused it, seeing his expression. They’d known each other since they were practically babies, so they could read each other fairly well. 

“Marius, can you get me that thing from Jehan?” Courfeyrac said to his roommate. 

“I thought you said you were going to get it.” Marius argued. Courfeyrac sighed dramatically. 

“Marius, please? I don’t want to see Jehan and make things…” He paused and sighed again for dramatic effect, “Painful.” 

“You’re a jerk.” Marius said, rolling his eyes. He got up anyways and left, going to get whatever Courfeyrac was talking about. 

“What’s up?” He asked when he was sure Marius was out of earshot. 

“Enjolras is being an idiot. He has these bruises on his arms and he won’t tell me where he got them.” Combeferre sighed, leaning back against Courfeyrac’s headboard. Courfeyrac followed suit, but leaned against Combeferre. 

“I mean, we could blackmail him into telling us.” Courfeyrac suggested, causing the other boy to laugh. “I’m serious! We could tell Feuilly about that huge crush he used to have on him.” 

“He’d kill us!” Combeferre said, trying to be serious again, “Seriously, Courf, I’m worried.” 

“Well, if he doesn’t want to tell you, I guess there’s not much you can do.” Courfeyrac said with a shrug, “Just watch him like a ‘Ferre sized hawk and he’ll be fine.” 

“I hope so.” Combeferre said, sighing. “I am not stoned enough to deal with this bullshit.” 

“Wanna get high and watch Parks and Rec?” Courfeyrac asked, reaching into his bedside table and pulling out a little plastic bag of weed. 

“You’re an amazing human being.” Combeferre said gratefully, unpausing the show. 

“I try.” Courfeyrac said, “It’s not easy being this charming and wonderful.” 

… 

Several weeks into the new school year and Enjolras was feeling less than optimistic about it. He felt restless and anxious almost all the time, and the only thing worse than the feeling, was trying to hide it. His friends all knew him so well it took quite a bit of consideration and thought to mask his internal problems from them. Especially Courfeyrac and Combeferre. Both of them had already somewhat caught on to his unease multiple times, and brushing them off didn’t always work.

Being around all of them, and other people for that matter, was almost suffocating. He felt trapped and claustrophobic around more people, knowing if he let his guard down they’d all notice. It was because of this that Enjolras had decided to leave so suddenly during one of their gatherings at the Musain. Courfeyrac and Feuilly were caught up in a debate, so Enjolras took the opportunity to duck out, not bothering to look back when he caught one of the Amis out of the corner of his eye- Grantaire, he thought- watch him leave.

He ended climbing a flight of stairs in the main campus building, surprised he’d actually gotten so high up without coming across a “do not enter” or other obligatory warning sign. He made it all the way up to the attic when he saw something that caught his eye. It was a short door, partially hidden behind a stack of old desks. He crossed the attic to get a better look at it. It was too short for a person standing straight up to go through, but if he crouched down he could probably get in without a problem.

When Enjolras opened the small door up he was greeted with a surprisingly spacious crawlspace, a little taller than the door at it’s highest point since the ceiling followed the slant of the roof. It was littered with alcohol bottles, but Enjolras didn’t mind in the slightest, crawling in. It was so quiet- perfect. It reminded him of when he was a child. He’d always romanticized the idea of having a secret hideout. For a second he caught himself smiling at the thought. This was a secret hideout. A place to get away. Enjolras leaned against a stack of boxes and closed his eyes, he felt calmer already.

… 

Enjolras made it a point to come to his new hideout whenever he felt uneasy, sitting alone and thinking things out. 

What Enjolras didn’t know, however, was that the hideout had been Grantaire’s own little secret getaway for years. 

Enjolras was lying on the floor in his hideout, eyes closed, enjoying the silence, when he heard the door open. He dove behind a pile of desks, afraid that whoever was coming in would see him.

Grantaire walked into the low room, crouched low to avoid the ceiling. He was humming a tune to himself and looking around the empty bottles, seemingly looking for a non-empty one.

Seeing as it wasn’t a school official, Enjolras figured he should let Grantaire know he was there. They were friends, after all. And it wasn’t like he was here to hide from Grantaire. 

“Uh… Hey.” Enjolras said, popping his head up from behind the desks. 

Grantaire let out a girly scream and dropped his bottle, though it thankfully didn’t break. 

“H-Hey, Apollo!” Grantaire said in a cheerful tone, clutching his chest to try to keep his heart from pounding it’s way out of his ribcage. “Didn’t see you there! How do you know about this place?” 

“Oh, I found it last week. I didn’t know it was yours, I can leave if you want?” Enjolras said, unsure. 

“No, no it’s fine.” Grantaire assured him, “I just come here when people are too much, you know? And I get drunk here, but that’s besides the point. I’m honestly surprised none of the Amis have found this place yet, you know?” 

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice.” Enjolras nodded, “But really, you found it first, I should go.” 

“Calm down, Apollo.” Grantaire said, rolling his eyes. “As long as you don’t decide to hold meetings in here it’s fine.” Grantaire sat down next to Enjolras, having found a full bottle of wine. “I’m kind of hiding from Joly.” 

“Why are you hiding from Joly?” Enjolras asked. Joly was like the most non-threatening member of their group, honestly. 

“He’s been attacking me with books about colleges.” Grantaire shrugged, “Figured I’d procrastinate and hide from the world for a while.” 

“You haven’t decided on a college yet?” Enjolras asked, not that surprised, but trying to fake it. “What do you want to do?” 

“Oh god, not you too.” Grantaire groaned, “I’m here to avoid my responsibilities, Enj, and I intend to do just that.” 

Enjolras laughed, “Fine, fine. So what even is this place?” 

“I’m pretty sure all that’s stored here are some broken desks, some textbooks from 1949, and my booze.” Grantaire said, “Oh, and this.” He got up and pushed one of the groups of desks to the side, revealing a neat letter R carved into the wall. “In Sophomore year I decided to mark my territory, but now I kind of feel like an idiot, so I keep it covered up so I don’t have to look at the stupid shit I did.” 

“Why show me, then?” Enjolras asked as Grantaire moved the desks back. 

“If you decided to explore, and then found it since it’s the only thing to find, you’d be confused. I’m here to take all the mystery out of this place.” Grantaire said, sitting down once more. “So, are you hiding from someone too?” 

Enjolras almost said no, but instead “Combeferre.” slipped out of his mouth. 

“Look at us, hiding from our best friends. Cheers.” Grantaire said, tipping his bottle towards the blond in a mock salute. Enjolras grinned a little. 

“He was talking about moths and Courfeyrac. I had to get away.” Enjolras said with a laugh. 

“They just need to get together already.” Grantaire said, “It’s like Joly and Bossuet all over again. I lived through that once, I don’t think I can handle this much angst again.” 

“You’re not the one who has to deal with it.” Enjolras argued, “They’re my best friends, I’ve got to see them all the time.” 

“Buy earplugs.” Grantaire suggested, “And know when to leave the room.” 

“Oh yeah, you used to room with Bossuet, didn’t you?” Enjolras asked, “When they got together.” 

“I was happy for them, but that was the worst year of my life, oh my god. They are not quiet.” Grantaire complained, “And I love Jehan, but I’m so happy he and Courf broke up, it was killing me. Too much sex all around me all the time.” 

Enjolras laughed and fell into a comfortable silence as Grantaire complained about all of his roommates’ sex lives. He realized that this was probably the longest one-on-one conversation he’d ever had with Grantaire, and he was surprised to find that he wished they were better friends, so they could talk like this all the time. 

Eventually Enjolras looked at his phone and decided that he’d been gone long enough. Grantaire elected to stay in the hideout, so he was still sitting on the dusty floor when he called out to Enjolras’s retreating figure. 

“This was fun, let’s do it again sometime.” 

“For sure.” Enjolras replied, before closing the door.

… 

The Amis had most of their classes with at least one other friend, but they all had Jean Valjean’s History class together, and they all loved it. 

Jean Valjean was the school’s nicest, most long-suffering teacher. His daughter, Cosette, lived in the school with him when she wasn’t attending Saint Mary’s School for Bright Young Girls, the girls’ boarding school just down the road. Cosette was dating Marius, but that was alright, because the Amis seemed to be Valjean’s favorite students. 

Over the years, the Amis had found the best seating arrangement possible for the class, and any other students could just suck it. They took up a majority of the class anyways, their group taking over the entire front and right part of the classroom, leaving only the back row for their rival clique, the Patron Minette, and two empty seats for other students.

This year, however, Montparnasse had kicked the poor, random student out of their spot, so he could sit next to Jehan. They started dating a week after school started and the rivalry between their group had slightly settled down. 

When Valjean walked into the room, every day, without fail, Courfeyrac would stand up with his hand over his heart and say “O Captain, my Captain!” in a mock salute, before sitting down again. It had been funny for like the first month, then it was annoying, and then it cycled back to funny for some reason, and by now it was just a routine. Valjean just accepted it, nodding in acknowledgement every time, before beginning class. 

Combeferre rolled his eyes when Courfeyrac did that exact thing today and looked longingly at his phone, sighing quietly. In a fit of something like teenage rebellion, he’d made himself a blog on tumblr. Not his normal medical facts and cool science shit blog, no. It was a dick pic blog. And it mainly featured pics of his own dick. It was quickly gaining popularity for some reason, and he really wanted to check the notes and update the queue, but not in Valjean’s class. He’d save it for Lamarque's class.

… 

After classes were done for the day, Combeferre felt a little lost. Enjolras was off doing something god knows where, Courfeyrac had been dragged off by Gavroche, Joly and Bossuet had gone to visit Musichetta at the girl’s school, along with Marius, who was visiting Eponine and Cosette. Bahorel and Feuilly were practicing some kind of sport, and Jehan was off with Montparnasse. And try as he might, Combeferre could not seem to track down Grantaire. 

He sighed and settled down to do some homework or something, even though he had been all in favor of letting it sit for a while longer to hang out with his friends, when there came a knock on his door. 

‘Oh thank god, I did not want to be this far ahead in calculus.’ He thought, getting up and opening the door. Courfeyrac was at the door with a slightly shell-shocked expression on his face. 

‘Oh no, he knows about my blog.’ Combeferre thought, letting his best friend into his room. 

“Ferre, if I ask you a question, will you answer it honestly?” Courfeyrac asked, sitting on his bed and looking up at him with huge eyes. 

“Yeah, of course, what’s wrong?” Combeferre asked, feeling his heart sink. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good. 

“You think I’m cuter than Jehan, right? Because Gavroche just told me that Jehan was ‘like, a billion times cuter’ than me and I need some reassurance. The kid wears the ugliest shit.” Courfeyrac said, looking distraught. He fell backwards on the bed and let out a dramatic sigh.

All the tension in the air disappeared and Combeferre laughed. “Really?” 

“What? I am the cutest, goddamn it.” Courfeyrac pouted, sitting up a bit, “This is a serious issue! And you’re the only person I can be this conceited with!” 

“Fey.” Combeferre said, taking his friend’s hand and trying to hold back laughter, “You are definitely the cutest.” 

“Well. I suppose that will have to do.” Courfeyrac said, laying back down again and looking at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at Combeferre. “Hey, I have another question.”

“Yeah?” Combeferre sat on the bed next to him and leaned against the headboard. This was a better distraction than calculus. 

“Do you maybe want to go on a date with the cutest of the Amis?” Courfeyrac asked, looking hopefully up at him. Combeferre pretended to consider. 

“I thought Jehan was dating Montparnasse.” He said, grinning. Courfeyrac gave him an overdramatic, hurt expression. 

“Ferre, you wound me!” He said, clutching his chest. Combeferre laughed. 

“But yeah.” He said, when he could talk again. “I want to go on a date with you.” 

“You do?” Courfeyrac asked, hopeful once more. 

“Yeah, of course.” Combeferre said, “I thought it was obvious that I liked you.” 

“Awesome.” Courfeyrac said, “I propose for our first date we stay here and cuddle, to capitalize on our alone time.” 

“Agreed.” Combeferre said, sliding down on the bed a little to be closer to his new boyfriend. Best procrastinating ever. 

… 

Enjolras pressed end call on his phone, fist still trembling. He needed to get away before Combeferre came back to the dorm. His father had just called, he’d gotten a progress report from one of his teachers- Lemarques’ class actually. He was failing. As if he wasn’t already worried enough about going back home for the impending holiday break, this made it that much worse. When he arrived to the hiding spot he noticed Grantaire wasn’t there, but his booze stash was. Enjolras wasn’t one to drink but- well, god dammit. He deserved at least one break from being a model fucking citizen. 

Enjolras opened a wine cooler and gulped down about half of it, settling himself against the back wall. It was surprisingly sweet. He drank some more, closing his eyes. Thank god Grantaire wasn’t here. He could feel his thoughts slipping from his control. Now he knew why they called it the social lubricant. Still, somehow drinking made him feel better.  
After two and a half bottles he felt comfortably numb, like the world was a joke and his problems didn’t matter. Maybe that’s why Grantaire was always drinking. 

Grantaire… over the past several weeks he’d become pretty close with Grantaire. This space- and their thoughts… it was what they shared. Shared. Enjolras smiled a little at the thought of he and Grantaire sharing something. Anything. Feelings. Even in a drunken state Enjolras shook the thought from his head. He’d always liked Grantaire like a friend. A really annoying friend who always contradicted him and playfully harassed him with sexual comments and overly zealous hugs. Oh, who could he kid? He’d developed a crush on Grantaire. It probably had been there all along, to be honest. After all, for as annoying as he always was Enjolras never really wanted him to go away, or to stop contradicting him.

“One day, Julien Enjolras, you will grow a pair.” he said, searching through some miscellaneous art supplies, finding a Sharpie. “But for now, you’ll have to settle.” He pushed the desks next to Grantaire’s “R” aside and drew a large, shaky heart followed by a capital E. His handwriting was shit compared to Grantaire’s, but it was honestly just an E so it didn’t really matter, or look that different despite the fact that Grantaire’s R was carved into the wall and Enjolras’s was just Sharpie. 

He sighed dreamily at the sight, allowing himself this moment for absolute, Marius-level dorkiness. Then he shoved the pile of desks back in front of the design, sitting against it and finishing a bottle. He left the last one in the little cardboard carrier and got up, stumbling a little, 

He got to his room, thankful that Combeferre was off with Courfeyrac, probably traumatizing Marius or something. He contemplated doing homework as drunk as he was, then decided against it, flopping onto his bed. This alcohol made him not want to do anything. By now the happy feeling had kind of worn off, and Enjolras was feeling sorry for himself, agonizing over his father’s anger. He fell into a fitful sleep. 

… 

Later that evening, Grantaire headed over to his hideout, thinking to grab some vodka for a fun time with Joly and Bossuet. He got in and saw his one carton of wine coolers missing three-fourths of its contents. 

“Who the fuck..?” He asked himself looking at it confused, before he remembered the one person who knew of his hiding place. “Enjolras?” 

Wine coolers. His little Apollo drank three wine coolers. Grantaire grinned, feeling immensely proud of his leader’s debauchery. He grabbed the bottle he was looking for and headed out, still smiling. 

…

Jehan broke up with Montparnasse the next week. They had a fight about something and it was a messy breakup, but Jehan didn’t really want to talk about it to the Amis and Montparnasse refused to tell the Patron Minette why they’d broke up, instead moping around. 

The rest of the Patron Minette decided to take matters into their own hands, to get back at Jehan for hurting their leader. They agreed to make the poet’s life a living hell for at least a while. 

Jehan put up with it the first couple times, not protesting when Babet pushed his books out of his hands in the hall or when Claquesous jeered at him, But when Gueulemer shoved Jehan, sending him sprawling to Grantaire and Bahorel’s feet, that was an act of war. 

Grantaire gasped when Gueulemer pushed Jehan, so surprised at the act that he didn’t go after the laughing Patron Minette members as they retreated. 

“What the fuck?” He asked, helping Jehan to his feet. “What’s going on?” 

“They’re mad that Montparnasse is upset.” Jehan explained, brushing off his floral pants. “It’s fine.” 

“It’s not fine! No one hurts our precious little flower.” Bahorel said, dramatically looking into the distance, clenching his fist. 

“What?” Jehan asked. Grantaire shrugged. Bahorel grabbed Jehan and held him close to his chest, stroking his long hair. 

“You’re too delicate for this nonsense. We must protect you.” He said, and Jehan just sort of wiggled, before giving up his attempts at escape. 

“Yeah, we can’t let them treat you like that.” Grantaire said, “You’re too beautiful for that. Wars should be waged in your favor.” 

“Seriously guys, it’s fine.” Jehan tried to protest, but it was too late. Bahorel and Grantaire’s minds were made up.

Grantaire enlisted Joly and Bossuet’s help, and Bahorel got Feuilly in on the plan. They silently agreed to not tell any of the others what was going on, as they were afraid that Enjolras and company would do a sensible thing like tell Jean Valjean. Or that they’d do something really drastic and get them all suspended. 

… 

For two days, whenever the Jehan Protection Squad saw the Patron Minette (minus Montparnasse) they would yell insults and get some insults in return. They shoved each other around a bit, but nothing drastic happened. 

The next day, however, the first real incident happened. All of the tables in the lunchroom had salt and pepper shakers, and a big shaker full of sugar for coffee or whatever it was that kids need sugar for these days. 

Feuilly noticed that Claquesous and Babet both really like sugar in their coffee, and Gueulemer put sugar on his oatmeal in the morning. So, in his infinite wisdom, he stole the sugar shaker off the Patron Minette’s usual table and filled it, instead, with salt. 

After returning it, he told the rest of the Squad of the deed and they waited eagerly for the Patron Minette to arrive. 

They kept pictures on their phones of Gueulemer throwing up oatmeal into the trash, and Claquesous and Babet doing a simultaneous spit take with their coffees.

…

Claquesous knew that Feuilly did it, somehow he knew. At this point he could have just called off the feud, cut his losses, whatever. 

However, Claquesous was a bitter, bitter person and he could hold a grudge to the end of the Earth. So he picked the lock to Feuilly’s dorm. He quickly emptied half of Feuilly’s shampoo and filled the rest with black hair dye. 

That evening, when Feuilly took his shower, half asleep, he was confused by the streams of black water circling the drain. The water was running clear from the showerhead, confusing him more. When he looked at his hands and saw that they were stained black, everything clicked. He tried desperately to wash all of the dye out, in vain. 

When he got out of the shower, his normally red hair had turned a sickly grey/black with odd orange patches. He glared at the reflection. Oh, the Patron Minette would pay. 

… 

Grantaire knew that Gueulemer had a coffee maker in his dorm, something highly against the rules. He enlisted Joly to unlock the door and they mixed laxative powder into the coffee bag, before retreating. 

The Patron Minette (aside from Montparnasse) were all missing from class the next day, laid up in the nurse’s office. 

… 

There was a party in the dorms that weekend, thrown by some random student that all of them knew in passing, but no one really knew for real. Grantaire was there, drinking all of their supplied booze with Joly and Bossuet, reveling in their latest attack. 

When Grantaire left to go to the bathroom, Claquesous and Gueulemer distracted Joly and Bossuet away from Grantaire’s drink, and Babet filled the thing with salt (from the sugar shaker). They left Joly and Bossuet alone when Grantaire came back. 

“I guess I scared them off.” Grantaire said, despite the fact that he was talking about Gueulemer, a literal giant. He downed his glass in one swallow. 

Two minutes later Bossuet was patting Grantaire’s back in the bathroom while he coughed and threw up a copious amount of salt-whiskey. 

… 

Bahorel and Gueulemer got really close to an actual fistfight in the hall, something that got them a one-hour in-school suspension. 

…

Joly, Bossuet, and Grantaire all had Myriel’s class together. They sat together every day, in the second to last row, a little in front and to the left of where Babet and Claquesous sit every day. Things were going as normal, Joly and Bossuet were laughing at a pun or something that Grantaire had just told them, when suddenly there was a soft splat noise and Joly’s face turned into a mask of horror.

He turned, slowly, looking at his friends as a spitball dripped down his face. He made a little whimpering noise as it fell onto his notebook, but no real words left his mouth. 

Bossuet was furious. Didn’t they know how mean this was? Dyeing Feuilly’s hair was one thing, but this was a travesty of justice.

He picked up the spitball off of Joly’s desk, garnering another disgusted noise from his boyfriend, and spat his own gum into it. He rolled it around in his fingers, combining the two, before throwing it back at the Patron Minette. He was aiming for Babet in general, but he missed, hitting Claquesous’s hair. 

“Oh my god.” Grantaire said, breaking the stunned silence between the two groups. “Bossuet. You actually hit him! You were aiming and you hit him!” 

“I did!” Bossuet said, his eyebrows shooting up into his non-existent hairline in surprise. “I actually did!” 

“I think I need medical attention.” Joly said softly, prompting Bossuet to go grab Myriel’s hand sanitizer. 

… 

The next day in Valjean’s class, there was an aura of hatred between half of the Amis and the Patron Minette. Claquesous was missing a little chunk of hair where the gum was. However, aside from the Jehan Protection Squad and three fourths of the Patron Minette, everyone was blissfully unaware. 

Well, Jehan and Montparnasse vaguely knew that these things were happening, and even though they didn’t exactly approve, neither of them cared enough to stop it. 

After Courfeyrac’s daily “O Captain, My Captain!”, Valjean was telling the class that he wanted to run a field trip to a church on Christmas night. All of the Amis were going to attend, and Valjean was neglecting history to iron out some details and permission slips. 

Feuilly was kind of zoned out, sure that he could ask Combeferre for the details later. He glanced back at Jehan just in time to see Claquesous pulling out a comically large pair of scissors. He was about to say something about it, but he was too late, as the boy had already pulled Jehan’s hair between the blades and sliced it off in two, quick cuts.

“Claquesous, what the fuck?” Feuilly all but yelled, drawing everyone’s attention first to himself, then the the boy in question. 

When Jehan turned to face Claquesous his head felt oddly light, but he didn’t figure out what had happened until he saw the braid on Claquesous’s desk. He reached up to touch his hair, his fingers untwisting it from what remained of its braid. 

“What?” He asked softly, frowning. His lip trembled as he fought to keep his composure. “Why..?” 

“Jehan…” Courfeyrac tried to say, having turned around to see this. Jehan got up and ran, and Courfeyrac followed. 

Combeferre knew that he shouldn’t have felt jealous that Courfeyrac was going to comfort their friend, but that didn’t stop him. 

“Claquesous, go to Javert’s office.” Valjean ordered, bringing everyone’s attention back to himself. No one had ever heard him tell anyone to go to the office before. 

Claquesous got up, taking the braid with him.

“Now. Does anyone want to tell me what that was all about?” Valjean asked. 

… 

“Don’t worry, Jehan.” Courfeyrac said as he put his arm around the crying boy’s shoulders. “It looks nice.” 

They were sitting in the empty hallway outside of the boy’s bathroom where Jehan had just looked in the mirror. Courfeyrac had texted Combeferre to tell him where they were, so the group wouldn’t worry, and now he was trying to calm the poet down. 

“Nice? It looks like shit! It took me so long to grow that out, Courf! My parents were so pissed! Now they’re going to think that I wasn’t sticking to my decisions.” He sobbed again, cutting off his speech. 

Gavroche was exiting the boy’s bathroom when he looked down and to his side, seeing a crying Jehan and Courfeyrac trying to comfort him. Jehan! Why was Jehan crying? He quickly dropped down in front of them, “Jehan, what’s the matter?”

“Claquesous cut off his braid in class.” Courf frowned, patting Jehan’s back a little.

Gavroche’s eyes widened. Claquesous would pay for that- but- but right now he needed to focus. To focus on Jehan, and so, without warning, he took Jehan’s hands, clasping them in his own. Jehan looked up, blinking away some of his tears. Gavroche had a noble expression, staring directly at Jehan, who looked rather confused.

“I still think you’re beautiful! Like a princess!” Gavroche blurted out. Jehan stared at Gavroche before blinking a few times.

“What?”

Gavroche’s face turned red as he quickly let go of Jehan, standing up. It took him about three seconds to run off, yelling “I STILL THINK YOU’RE REALLY PRETTY!” behind him as he went.

Gavroche’s words echoed in the empty hall for a moment.

“Well, are you feeling any better?” Courfeyrac asked, looking over to Jehan, who had stopped crying. 

“Yeah, actually.” Jehan said, trying for a smile and mostly succeeding. “I’ll have to thank Gavroche.” 

…

“You can’t write “FUCK THE CAMPUS POLICE” on our protest signs Grantaire! We need to take this seriously!”

“I am taking it seriously! I think it gets the point across-”

“Grantaire- people won’t take us seriously!”

Gavroche had been walking down the hall in the Musian a couple days after Halloween when he heard the two men arguing from in the back storage room. Enjolras and Grantaire just needed to get together already. Jeez. He smirked as he peeked in, seeing them shouting at each other and slowly closing the door. He went and grabbed a chair from one of the tables and quietly tucked it underneath the door knob, grinning. He ran off, hearing the two in the room realizing that the door was shut. He had to go tell Courfeyrac of his accomplishment.

“Hey!” Enjolras tried to open the door, finding it jammed, “God dammit…” Enjolras growled, upset that he and Grantaire were now locked in the same room together right in the middle of an argument. It really could have happened at a better time.

“Well that’s just fan-fucking-tastic.” Grantaire crossed his arms, “Who knows how long I’ll have to stand here and listen to your bullshit now.” He was in a particularly bad mood today, having just found out he failed his project in art, his favorite subject. Enjolras didn’t blame him, but he wasn’t in the best of moods himself.

“Hey, I’m not any happier about this than you!” Enjolras defended himself, encroaching on Grantaire’s space. God, did he never think about anyone else?

“What a liar, you know you love to argue. You probably get off on it or something!” Grantaire growled back, both of their faces now only inches apart as they shouted.

“How would you know what I get off on? You don’t know- shit…. about… me…” Enjolras realized how close they were, his cheeks becoming red. They were so close… Grantaire’s lips were right there. He could just… kiss them. It wasn’t until he snapped back to reality that he realized that was exactly what he was doing. Kissing Grantaire. He yanked himself back, staring at Grantaire in the same confused way that he was looking at him. Oh shit. He’d just- done that for real- oh shit!

“Sorry- sorry, sorry, sorry!” Enjolras covered his mouth as he backed up. Grantaire took a step forward.

“...You… kissed me?” Grantaire’s jaw hung open. 

Enjolras blinked, he needed… to think of something… fast. “I just- sorry- sexual… frustration… life sucks… sorry… that was uncalled for… totally… uncalled for.”

Grantaire’s expression changed quite quickly from shocked to amused and he began to laugh, “My god Apollo, and here I thought you were chaste this whole time- I didn’t realize-” Grantaire had trouble talking from laughing so much. “You can’t bottle shit like that up, don’t you masturbate or something?”

...

“Wait, so Enjolras and Grantaire are locked up _where_?” Courfeyrac asked, setting down the signs he was putting up. 

“A closet.” Gavroche reported cheerfully, swinging his legs as he sat on a desk.

“A closet. You locked them in a closet.” He said slowly. “They’re going to kill each other! And then Ferre is going to kill me for letting Enjolras die! How could you, Gav? I thought you loved me.” 

“Nah.” Gavroche said, hopping off the desk. “I only love money. So you’ll have to pay me to get me to tell you where they are.”

“Gav, they’re in a closet in the Musain. Oh, how will I _ever_ figure out where they are? There’s so many closets! Like three entire closets! Where could they be?” Courfeyrac sarcastically said, holding his hand to his forehead dramatically. Gavroche rolled his eyes. 

“Fine. But I want to see you let them out.” The sixth grader said as they started to walk to the Musain.

“Buddy, if I were you, I’d want to be as far from the scene of the crime as possible. This is Grantaire and Enjolras we’re talking about.”Courfeyrac said, “Either Grantaire has sacrificed Enjolras to the gods for some sort of art powers or Enjolras got annoyed and ripped out Grantaire’s throat. Either way, they’ll find a way to pin the murder on me. You’d better go before they name you as my accomplice.” 

“But I am your accomplice.” Gavroche reasoned. 

“And a great one, at that.” Courfeyrac said with a nod, “And all great accomplices leave so that they can post bail.” 

Honestly, Courfeyrac wanted Gavroche out of there so he wasn’t in either of his friends line of sight when he freed them from the closet. They’d probably both be furious, but he was counting on minimal blood loss. 

“Fine.” Gavroche said, running off, “But you better tell me what happens!” 

“I’ll write you from my jail cell!” Courfeyrac called after him, before walking into the Musain. 

… 

When Courfeyrac opened the door, he would have expected anything other than what he’d got. He expected maybe- blood! Blood everywhere… or to see the two strangling each other… maybe… maybe still arguing like usual… but what he got… made it all the stranger. 

Courfeyrac moved the chair from beneath the doorknob and opened it, eyes widening as two men spilled onto the ground, presumably having been leaning against the door. Grantaire fell on top of Enjolras, bracing himself better than the blond, able to keep himself from actually falling completely onto him while Enjolras had just gone down, now dizzy and laying on his back. 

It was the minute details that caused Courfeyrac the most surprise. Enjolras’s shirt was pushed up a little. Both of them had fairly messy hair- nothing new for Grantaire, but Enjolras kept his hair neatly done at all times. And lastly, the flushness of their cheeks. If Grantaire had been drinking it would have been one thing, but since Enjolras, no matter how disoriented he was at the moment was blushing, he knew something was up. 

He was like 80 percent sure they were just making out, but he didn’t want to accuse until he knew for sure. Enjolras was all stressed out lately, and even though Courfeyrac and Combeferre were pretending that everything was normal for his sake, they were honestly going easy on him. 

“What the fuck, guys?” Courfeyrac asked, crossing his arms. 

“We were having a private argument, Courf.” Grantaire said, sitting up off the blond and pouting, “About fucking the police.” 

Enjolras pushed himself out from beneath Grantaire all the way, brushing off his outfit as well, “The protest next week. Grantaire wants to write ‘FUCK THE CAMPUS POLICE’ on all of our signs. We decided against it.” he was still blushing, but he glared at Grantaire to silence any arguments the artist might have. 

“Yep. It was a mutual agreement.” Grantaire said, grinning suspiciously. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to repaint a bunch of protest signs.” 

Courfeyrac and Enjolras watched him pick up the signs and walk away, before Courfeyrac looked back at his best friend. 

“So. You and Grantaire?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. He was trying to be subtle, yet straightforward and channel his inner Combeferre, but he didn’t think it was working. 

“What? No. Why would you ever think that that would ever be a thing?” Enjolras asked, blushing again. Courfeyrac swallowed his urge to tease his friend. It was for the greater good. 

“Okay.” He said, sounding strained from the effort of not being an asshole. “Let’s go do some political activism or whatever.” 

… 

A few moments earlier, in the closet, Grantaire was still pressed up against Enjolras, waiting for a response to his question. 

“Of course I mastrubate, Jesus!” Enjolras whisper-yelled, blushing. Grantaire bit back a comment about their lord and savior, and nodded. 

“So, do you need, like, help or something? Because that’s obviously not doing it for you.” Grantaire said, hoping that he hadn’t just crossed a line. “I’m happy to help.” 

It took Enjolras several complete moments to process what Grantaire had said, a blank expression on his face more than enough proof that Grantaire had practically broke his brain. “What- I mean- I don’t know. Like… a… beneficial friend?” Enjolras cursed himself as he saw Grantaire stifle laughter. He hadn’t remembered what exactly Courfeyrac had called that arrangement, but that obviously wasn’t it.

“A friend with benefits?” Grantaire asked, trying to keep down his laughter, lest he offend Enjolras and fuck this whole thing up. “Pretty much, yeah. But not like the shitty romantic comedy. I’m not going to invite you to my beach house to meet my father with alzheimer's and stage a flash mob. Unless you want a flash mob?” 

“Wha- no. No flash mob. So… this is purely… a friend thing, correct?” Enjolras wanted to make sure Grantaire didn’t get the wrong idea. “We’re not dating or anything.”

“Oh, fuck no.” Grantaire laughed, shaking his head. He wouldn’t inflict himself upon his Apollo like that in his time of need. “This is just a hormone-driven friend thing. No dating. Cuddling… optional.” 

Enjolras did a very good job containing the instant pain he felt in his chest, smiling instead, “Okay.” If this was the only way he could be close to Grantaire, he’d take it.

“So yeah. Friends with benefits. Whenever you need your Patented-Rated-R-Boy-Toy, just tell me and we can, like, do some stuff in private.” Grantaire said, trying to diffuse the situation with humor. 

Humor was not always the best way to approach things with Enjolras, if anything, right now it made him even more embarrassed but he knew what Grantaire was trying to do, so he went with it, “Yeah… actually… Kind of like now, huh?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, now…” Grantaire rambled, before deciding to shut himself up by kissing the blond. He threaded his fingers through Enjolras’s hair, and the other boy was just seeming to start to get into it when they heard a scraping noise from the doorknob, like something was being moved. 

“What was that?” Enjolras whispered, before the door was opened and they were both sent sprawling to the floor. 

… 

A couple weeks later, after Thanksgiving had come and passed, Grantaire and Enjolras’s friends with benefits agreement was still going strong, mostly kept alive by their little hiding place. They had a system set up where Enjolras would either drag Grantaire off after their last class of the day, or he’d send the artist a text. Either way, Grantaire would always agree to meet up and they’d head to the hidey hole or one of the dorms. 

Enjolras was almost overwhelmed by their relationship, and yet at the same time, if there was one thing it did well, it was relieving stress. He couldn’t help thinking of it in a different way though. In his head he imagined that now, as he sat in Grantaire’s lap, head buried against his shoulder, that instead of awkwardly making jokes about how cute he sounded, or other ridiculous things to talk about at this moment, that Grantaire was whispering sweet nothings in his ear. It also made him feel incredibly guilty, as if he was abusing this relationship for his own benefit.

“Ah~” Enjolras’s face was pink as he kept it pressed against Grantaire’s shoulder. No matter how many times Grantaire gave him a hand job, Enjolras couldn’t wrap his head around how it felt so different- so much better than when he did it on his own. “Fuck…” he mumbled, his cheeks burning. It felt so good.

Suddenly, with a slight change of his position Enjolras felt something hard pressing against his inner thigh. Grantaire was- oh god, he was such an idiot. In all of his rants about equality he’d only just now realized their situation was hardly equal. He couldn’t just leave it like that, he had to correct this. Enjolras was not used to these situations, so he felt a little awkward as he reached down, rubbing the crotch of Grantaire’s pants. The brunette was alarmed at first, making a noise that sounded both a mix of surprise, and pleasure, but he didn’t object.

“A-Apollo?” Grantaire asked, “You don’t have to, y’know- ah-” his own cheeks turned pink as the gasp escaped his throat. If he didn’t know better, he would have guessed Enjolras was more experienced than this. He knew just where to touch.

“It wouldn’t be fair.” Enjolras mumbled, trying to mask his own embarrassment. 

Grantaire snickered a little, leave it to Enjolras to think of this as another conquest for justice and equality. Well, with that being said he realized there was no point in arguing with him. Once his mind was set it was set. He’d just have to try not to melt completely at the hands of his golden Apollo.

…

Courfeyrac was sitting half on his bed, hanging upside down and texting Combeferre chemistry pick up lines (which were generally ignored, as Combeferre was in some sort of meeting with the guidance counselor about colleges), when Marius suddenly burst into the room, startling Courfeyrac so that he fell off of the bed. 

Marius looked like the devil was chasing him and slammed the door shut, leaning against it and slowly sinking to the floor. 

“Dude, what happened?” Courfeyrac asked, getting up to see if Marius was injured or something. 

“It was the worst!” Marius wailed, “I’m never going to get to see Cosette again!” he buried his face into his hands, “I’ve messed everything up- we’ll end up just like Romeo and Juliet at this rate!”

Courfeyrac closed his eyes to count to ten. It seemed appropriate. He only got to five when he opened them and asked, “So, how exactly did you mess up?” 

“I was over at Cosette and her father’s place and we were making out in her room, neither one of us heard Valjean get home so we were completely unprepared when he opened the door. It’s not like we were really doing anything that bad, but he seemed kind of embarrassed, and I was embarrassed, and Cosette was embarrassed and Valjean tried to make light of the whole situation by telling us ‘Well, at least you were only kissing’ in this really kind and understanding way. And then do you know what I did? I can’t believe how foolish I am- guess, just take a guess!” Marius, of course, had not taken a breath and was not about to take one now for Courfeyrac to even have a chance at guessing, “I said, ‘Well, it’s a good thing he didn’t walk in on us last week’ and I just felt so stupid the minute I said it. Cosette hit me with her pillow and Valjean practically chased me out! He told her that we aren’t allowed to see each other now… who knows for how long? And all because I screwed it up!” he threw up his arms in a dramatic motion before returning to his sad position on the floor.

Courfeyrac once again tried to count to ten, this time because he desperately wanted to laugh, but knew he couldn’t. He got to fifteen before he gave up, sitting on the floor next to Marius and patting his shoulder. 

“That’s… that’s rough.” He said, hoping Marius would take the choked sound of his voice for deep emotion and not the brink of laughter. “You know, you need a pick-me-up. Let’s go smoke some pot.” 

“You have some?” Marius looked up, looking at Courfeyrac as if he had saved his life. 

“Well, no. But Combeferre does, and we’re dating so, what’s his is mine, right? Besides, this is a dire situation.” Courfeyrac said, getting off the floor and helping Marius up. 

They got to Enjolras and Combeferre’s empty room and Courfeyrac opened the door with his illegal spare key. 

“The pot is between the bed and the wall.” Courfeyrac said. He sent Marius to grab it while he looked at his boyfriend’s desk. This little expedition had another benefit, he might get to figure out what Combeferre was getting him for Christmas, and if he needed to be worried.

“Uh, Courf. I kind of dropped the bag.” Marius said, holding up a plastic bag with little flecks of weed still stuck to it. 

“Under the bed? For fuck’s sake, Marius.” Courfeyrac sighed. Combeferre was going to kill him. “Okay, we’ve got to get under the bed and clean it up.” 

They were both skinny little fuckers, so they fit under the bed, with their feet sticking out, as they tried to collect the dropped weed. Courfeyrac shushed an already silent Marius when he heard the sound of someone unlocking the door. 

“Oh shit, hide your feet!” He hissed, and they frantically positioned themselves into an awkward spooning thing, hiding from whoever was about to come in. 

“So Combeferre’s going to be gone all afternoon?” Grantaire’s voice asked. Courfeyrac frowned. What was Grantaire doing in Combeferre’s room? Red converse entered his line of sight and Courfeyrac’s eyes widened. That was Enjolras. Why did Enjolras let Grantaire into his room? Courfeyrac thought they basically hated each other!

“Yeah, he went to a meeting for something…” Enjolras was standing by Grantaire, much closer now than he had been when they’d entered the room.

It was quiet for a moment after that, the silence only broken by Marius breathing in Courfeyrac’s ear. If he strained, Courfeyrac thought he could hear… like, wet noises? What the fuck? Wait, those were kissing noises. Enjolras and Grantaire were kissing. 

“Oh fuck.” He whispered, almost silently, for Marius to hear. 

“Courfeyrac- we should get out of here!” Marius whispered, starting to move forward to crawl out.

“No! Get back here!” Courfeyrac hissed, grabbing onto Marius to keep him from moving. 

Grantaire and Enjolras’s feet were getting closer, and suddenly, someone was sitting on the bed above them. Courfeyrac figured it was Enjolras, since his feet were the closest, but he really didn’t know, as he was trying to focus on anything other than what was happening. 

“Hey-” Grantaire said breathlessly. Courfeyrac felt a little sick. “Hey, Apollo. I was thinking we should try something new.” 

“Something new?” Enjolras questioned. Even without being able to see him it was obvious he sounded flustered. 

“Yeah, uh… Apollo, I can’t focus when you do that.” Grantaire breathed. 

“Oh fuck no.” Courfeyrac whispered, “They’re gonna have sex.” 

“Sorry…” Enjolras replied, “I mean, sure. Whatever you want to do.”

Marius paled, “No, no, no, no, no! We have to tell them we’re here, I can’t listen to my friends having sex, no way, nope, I’m gonna tell them-”

Courfeyrac violently covered Marius’s mouth with his hand. “Marius, you’re gonna have to take one for the team. We can’t tell them we’re here!” 

Courfeyrac’s heart almost stopped when Grantaire got down on his knees next to the bed, his crotch inches away from their faces. He was between Enjolras’s legs and they could hear pants unzipping and Enjolras take a deep breath. 

Courfeyrac contemplated letting Marius go to tell his friends that they were there, and hopefully save them some money in eventual therapy, when there was a knock at the door. 

“Hey Enj? I’m coming in.” Combeferre said. They always knocked after the incident where Enjolras walked in on Combeferre’s “alone time” in Freshman year. 

“Oh fuck!” Grantaire hissed. There was the sound of Enjolras’s fly being zipped back up, and both boys separated an acceptable distance, before Combeferre opened the door. 

“Oh, Grantaire!” Combeferre said, sounding surprised. 

‘Me too.’ Courfeyrac thought at his boyfriend. 

“Yeah, I was just...uh… leaving.” Grantaire said, before awkwardly shuffling out the door. 

“Did I… uh. Interrupt something?” Combeferre asked, sounding rather confused. 

‘Same, Ferre. Same.’ Courfeyrac tried to telepathically communicate to his boyfriend from where he was, still under the bed. 

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Grantaire and I have to work on a project for one of our classes,” Enjolras said, slipping out behind him. Honestly his mind was so blank he couldn’t even come up with a better excuse, seeing as how neither he nor Grantaire had any classes together other than Valjean’s, which there was no project in. Honestly Enjolras didn’t care, wanting to escape without his best friend noticing his raging hard on. “Bye!” And with that both were gone, in the most awkward possible way.

“That was weird.” Combeferre muttered to himself, sitting at his desk. He was going to check his dick pic blog, which was gaining followers by the day, when suddenly there was a noise like an animal was under the bed. 

“Oh thank GOD.” Courfeyrac said, emerging from under the bed, bits of weed all over his white shirt, accompanied by Marius Pontmercy. 

“What the fuck?” Combeferre asked, frantically locking his phone and jumping up, startled. “Why were you under the bed? With _Marius_?” 

“I swear to god, this isn’t what it looks like, babe.” Courfeyrac said, looking a weird combination of gleeful and afraid.

“I don’t even know what it looks like.” Combeferre said, examining them closer. “Is that weed on your shirt?” 

“Yeah, well, Marius got caught making out with Cosette by Valjean, and I was like ‘yeah, let’s go get some weed’ because I owed you some anyways, I’d just give it to you on Friday, and then Marius dropped the fucking bag, so we were under the bed trying to pick it up. So then the fucking door opened and I was like ‘oh shit, I have no idea who’s here, hide!’ and so we hid under the bed. And it was Grantaire and Enjolras and they started _making out_. So I figured we could just hide and then Marius almost gave us away, but I covered his mouth, and Grantaire was about to give Enjolras a blowjob when you knocked.” Courfeyrac recited, all in one breath. 

Combeferre looked stunned. “Enjolras? And _Grantaire_?” 

“It’s just like that one soap opera I watch with Cosette on Sundays-” Marius seemed to have made himself sad again at the thought of his girlfriend, pathetically wailing a little, “And now I won’t be able to watch it with her!”

“Ferre. What we just witnessed was traumatizing.” Courfeyrac said seriously, taking his boyfriend’s hand and ignoring Marius for now, “And nothing happened under the bed except weird spooning so we could fit. Marius is too much of a dork for me.” 

“Hey.” Marius protested, pouting. 

“True.” Combeferre said, “We should get dinner once you get all the pot off your shirt. Then we can discuss Enjolras’s love life over tacos.” 

“See, this is why I love you.” Courfeyrac said, hugging Combeferre and listening to him laugh happily. 

… 

Earlier that day, Bossuet had gone looking for the closet where Grantaire kept his extra art supplies and stumbled across Enjolras and Grantaire’s hiding place. (Grantaire’s art supplies were actually in an entirely separate building, but it’s Bossuet here.) 

He looked around, noticing all the booze. He was sure this was Grantaire’s secret stash room. As he looked around, he ended up bumping into a stack of desks, sending it crashing down and away from the wall to reveal a message. 

R<3 E.

“What the hell?” Bossuet asked aloud. He took out his phone, snapped a picture, and sent it to Joly captioned “R likes Eponine????”.

Joly received this message, looked at it, and sent it on to Musichetta with the same caption and asked if she knew how Eponine felt. 

Musichetta responded that she thought Eponine had no idea about the crush, but sent the picture and caption on to Cosette. 

Cosette frowned at it, already a little upset that day about Marius. She didn’t need Eponine to be stolen by their resident drunk. She liked Grantaire, and normally she wouldn’t be so pissy, but Marius was an idiot and her dad was being unfair. So she told Musichetta that she didn’t know anything about it, and sent the picture to Bahorel, who sparred with Grantaire and might know something. 

Bahorel gasped when he got the message and showed it to Feuilly, who was next to him, trying in vain to cut some of the black spots out of his hair before he had to go home for Christmas. 

“Isn’t it cute? Our little artist is finally growing up!” He gushed. Feuilly frowned. 

“I don’t know, man. I always thought Grantaire was gay.” He said, looking at his badly chopped haircut in the mirror. 

“That’s discrimination.” Bahorel said. “Just because he made out with Courfeyrac. And Joly. And Bossuet. And me that one time. That doesn’t mean he’s gay!” 

“If you say so.” Feuilly said, handing the scissors over to the giant man, “Just… try to cut it better.” 

Bahorel sent the picture and caption to Jehan with a “???!!!” text. Jehan frowned. Grantaire was gay, wasn’t he? Well, he could just ask Eponine, she and Grantaire had been hanging out a lot, it would make sense if they were a thing. 

Eponine looked at her text and snorted. She and Grantaire had been hanging out to bitch about their unrequited loves and drink, a worthy pastime, so she guessed that it would make sense that their friends had come to that conclusion. 

“Hey Gavroche, it looks like you were right. Enjolras and Grantaire are a thing.” She said to her brother, who was visiting her in her dorms. 

“Really? Heck yeah, Jehan thought I was lying!” Gavroche cheered. “We should go visit so I can tell him.” 

Eponine agreed to go with him, before sending the message off to Combeferre, telling him to “figure out what the fuck is going on, you’re the responsible one.” 

…

Courfeyrac, Marius, and Combeferre arrived in the cafeteria and sat down. All their friends were there, excluding the girls, and so they agreed not to talk about what happened until the others left, when they went to get their food. After they all returned to their table with plates of tacos, ready to eat and be done with drama for the day, Marius’s phone buzzed. 

He opened it and choked on a bit of the taco when he saw the message from Eponine. 

“Grantaire has a crush on Eponine?” He asked out loud. “Wait, but I thought-” 

The rest of Marius’s sentence was cut off by Courfeyrac covering his mouth for the second time that day. 

Grantaire and Enjolras both looked up at Marius in shock, before looking at each other for one long second and averting their eyes once more, bright red. 

“What?” Grantaire asked with a nervous laugh, “No, I don’t have a crush on Eponine. Why would you think that?” 

“No, you totally do!” Bahorel said, taking out his phone and showing Grantaire the picture. “See?” 

Grantaire looked at the picture for a long moment, knowing that Enjolras was the one who wrote that. “Yeah.” He said at last, hoping to save Enjolras in at least some capacity. “I guess I do have a crush on her. Just a little one. I did that like two years ago.” 

Enjolras thought he might die. Not only had Grantaire found out about his stupid, drunken mistake, but now he was shutting down his feelings? It was obvious that Grantaire was trying to tell him that he was straight or something by saying he had a crush on Eponine. It made Enjolras’s heart clench. 

“I-uh… I have homework.” He muttered, getting up and leaving. 

Grantaire wanted to follow, but he really had no right to do so. So he stayed.

… 

Enjolras avoided Grantaire for the rest of the week, and actually somewhat successfully until their Christmas celebration came along. Christmas break was nearly here and the Amis always got together and did a gift exchange, along with a little bit of a party. Since they usually used the Musain as the location of said get together, Grantaire always made sure to bring plenty of booze, but disguised it in an ordinary eggnog container. Truth be told, it was more half and half usually.

Enjolras sighed as he pulled his sweater over himself, getting ready for the celebration. “Combeferre, I think I might stay behind. I don’t feel that great.” He lied. He should have known better than to make up an excuse so lame to a guy aspiring to be a doctor, but it was his best shot. He didn’t have anything better to say.

“What’s up? Last year you were actually sick and I had to literally carry you to the nurse after the party with a fever. You never skip this stuff. So what’s wrong?” Combeferre asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. 

Enjolras had almost forgotten about that time. Of course this wasn’t going to work… but should he just tell Combeferre? He couldn’t give up his secret this easily, could he? And was that fair to Grantaire?

“I… I just kind of have a crush on Grantaire is all. It’s nothing big or anything. It’s just somewhat embarrassing after he confessed about Eponine the other day. I don’t want to act like Marius about the whole thing though.” He tried to shrug it off and accept his fate. He was going to see Grantaire at their gathering and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Oh, Enj.” Combeferre said, his expression softening. He’d been there. Especially after he realized he was in love with Courfeyrac and he didn’t want to fuck up their friendship. He put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We got this, Enj. We can sit next to each other and just talk about whatever and I’ll hog your attention so you don’t have to think about it.”

Combeferre was confused as to what exactly was going on, since Enjolras obviously knew Grantaire had a thing for him, since he was about to give him a blowjob for fuck’s sake. But he wasn’t going to bring it up until Enjolras brought it up or it became a problem. 

Enjolras blinked a little, “Thank you.” He always forgot how great Combeferre was. After finding out that Enjolras was even the slightest bit uncomfortable about going he’d went above and beyond to make him feel better. It was appreciated. But now, it was time to go.

… 

Even though it was a rich kid school, it was just too much to ask everyone to buy nine presents. And after the incident in seventh grade when Joly forgot to get Bossuet, and only Bossuet, a present (it was just his luck his best friend forgot him), they agreed to just pick names out of a hat. 

The Musian’s backroom, their usual hangout, was full of cutout decorations and cheap dollar store ornaments, with Mariah Carey singing Christmas songs in the background. Everyone was happily holding their presents, ready to hand them to whoever they picked. 

Enjolras went first, to get it out of the way. He had picked Combeferre, and he bought him a year’s subscription to an online research site that he knew Combeferre paid for every month. Everyone else seemed to think it was lame, but Combeferre was super excited. Apparently the subscription Enjolras got him had more journals than the one he had now. 

Bossuet had Jehan, and he’d gotten him this cute little glass figurine of a girl with hair like Jehan’s reading a book, but it had broken in half in the mail. Jehan insisted that he still loved it, and got out the Krazy Glue to put it back together. 

Courfeyrac got Marius a box of condoms, prompting their friends to catcall at him, and causing him to turn bright red. 

Jehan got Joly some herbal remedy cold tea. Joly was suspicious at first and ran off to make a cup of it with hot water from the Musain’s cafe. When he brought it back up, he was pleasantly surprised to feel as though some of his symptoms went away. Knowing Jehan though, it was probably drugged to make Joly chill out. 

Grantaire, in a sick twist of fate, had pulled Enjolras’s name. He knew that Enjolras was secretly a huge Phantom of the Opera fan, and Enjolras hadn’t been able to get tickets to see the show that was coming to town that January. So Grantaire had gone to a scalper and gotten tickets for his blond Apollo, paying way more than their general $25 max budget.

When Enjolras opened it to see two tickets for the show his eyes got huge. “Grantaire… how?” He asked, astonished. 

“I’m magic.” Grantaire said simply, grinning at the blond. Enjolras’s returning smile was blinding.

Combeferre got Bossuet lucky socks and a rabbit’s foot to keep on his keychain. Bossuet, who was always losing one of his socks and his keys, was touched and also creeped out by the foot of an actual dead animal. 

Marius got Feuilly a fan. When everyone starts to make fun of him, however, for getting Feuilly a fan from Feuilly’s own company, Marius pulls out another box, this one full of various types of hats. 

“I figured that since you destroyed your hair, you might want some cool headgear until it grows back.” Marius said. Feuilly pulled out a bonnet from the bottom of the box and put it on, before thanking Marius profusely for saving him from his mother’s disapproval. 

Feuilly got Grantaire a nice set of pens. They were generally very expensive, $25 would have covered maybe three of the pens, but they had been misprinted in Spanish, so Grantaire got an entire ten pen set. He was ecstatic. 

Joly gave Bahorel a nice first aid kit, complete with a note that said “Don’t get hurt so much <3” and a doodle by Grantaire of Doctor Joly. Bahorel treasures it. 

Bahorel got Courfeyrac a three DVD set of nine shitty romantic comedies. Courfeyrac loved it. (“Oh my god, this has Pretty Woman? Fuck yes!”)

After all the gifts were given and everyone was gushing about their presents and the holidays, the girls came in with Gavroche in tow. 

Musichetta cuddled up with her boys, trying to leech their warmth. It was a long cold walk from the Girl’s School. 

Gavroche threw a scarf at Courfeyrac, only to get a newsboy cap with a bow on it thrown back at him, their own little gift exchange. He walked over to Jehan and shyly gave him a little potted cactus with a flower on it. Lord only knows how it survived the snow. Jehan gushed over it and gave him a little book of poems. 

Eponine threw herself down into Grantaire’s lap. 

“Hey babe.” She said, earning a laugh from him. She slipped him a present, a flask full of whiskey, before cuddling up to try to get warm. Musichetta had the right idea. 

Enjolras watched, feeling a stab of jealousy. As he looked at Grantaire’s curly black hair, he felt like Marius was right, black was the color of despair. He shook himself. No. He couldn’t be acting like Pontmercy. He had to be reasonable. 

Eponine was giggling at something Grantaire said, and it proved to be too much for Enjolras. 

“I’m going to go back.” He said to Combeferre, who just nodded understandingly. 

Enjolras considered just making a hasty retreat and not talking to anyone, but as he felt Grantaire’s tickets in his pocket he knew that he had to be nice first. 

“Hey, R.” He said, causing the man to look up at him, shocked he’d talk to him of his own volition now. 

“Yeah?” Grantaire asked, paying no attention to the girl in his lap. 

“I just wanted to thank you again. The tickets mean a lot to me.” Enjolras said, blushing a little. “I’m going back for an early night before Courfeyrac starts saying ‘Oh no guys, this is our last Christmas ever!’ like he did at the pre-Thanksgiving feast.” Enjolras said, trying at humor. Grantaire laughed a little, so Enjolras counted it a success. 

“But it is the last Christmas ever.” Grantaire pointed out. “Come on, Apollo. Stay a little longer?” 

Enjolras found that he couldn’t say no. He wouldn’t be forced to talk about the stupid E on the wall, not with all their friends around. Maybe staying wouldn’t be so bad.

In the end, Enjolras didn’t go back until one in the morning, just like the rest of his friends. And he found that he didn’t regret it. 

…

“I can’t believe that they only let us go home on Christmas Eve. This is ridiculous. We should be home at least like the day before Christmas Eve.” Courfeyrac complained to Combeferre as they started their drive home. Combeferre just laughed, Courfeyrac said the same thing every year.

Combeferre was one of the only students at the school with an actual car, and he and Courfeyrac had a tradition of driving home and back together every break since the car came into Combeferre’s possession. Enjolras was always picked up by his father, and he used to give Courfeyrac and Combeferre a ride home before tenth grade, but those were the most awkward car rides either of them had ever experienced. 

This time, Combeferre was bringing Courfeyrac to his house to tell his family they were dating. They debated doing that over Thanksgiving, but Courfeyrac ended up having to go to a different city for Thanksgiving due to some family drama. Combeferre wasn’t exactly nervous, since his family knew he was gay and that Courfeyrac was his best friend. But he was kind of nervous. 

“Hey, at least after we tell your parents we can go to my house and you can watch my mom yell at me for existing.” Courfeyrac sighed dramatically. Combeferre laughed, shaking his head. Every time he brought Courfeyrac home the boy’s mom would come out and yell at him for some incident or another that ended up with him in Javert’s office and a phone call home. 

Combeferre would be willing to bet actual money that Courfeyrac’s mom would say “Oh, you’re dating this one now? Okay. Now, Javert told me…” and just brush it off. At least Combeferre knew he could go to Courfeyrac’s house if everything didn’t go to plan at his own house. 

… 

“So, Grandfather, I’m dating this girl named Cosette and she’s wonderful.” Marius told his grandfather when he got home. He generally kept his relationships from his grandfather, ever since the incident where he told him about Courfeyrac. 

“Ah, at least it’s better than that goofy boyfriend of yours.” The man said, and Marius barely contained a wince. “Who are you rooming with again? Feuilly?” 

“Uh… Courfeyrac.” Marius admitted. His grandfather sighed. 

… 

Bahorel and Feuilly were next door neighbors, so their families got together at Bahorel’s house. Bahorel’s dad looked like a muscle building ad from the 1930’s with a handlebar moustache. He was also probably one of the best lawyers in the state. 

Feuilly and Bahorel recounted the story of protecting Jehan, to Bahorel’s family’s delight, and the story of Marius giving Feuilly a fan, much to Feuilly’s family’s amusement. 

… 

Jehan hadn’t gotten to go home for Thanksgiving that year, so his parents were seeing his hair for the first time. He was dressed in black pants and a white t-shirt, longing for his floral leggings and a cat sweater. 

“Short hair now?” His father asked, “Good, you were starting to look like a girl. 

Jehan sighed. This was going to be a long break. 

… 

Joly’s parents hugged him as soon as he got in the door. His mother swore she was never letting him go away again and pressed about a million kisses to his hair before she finally let go. 

… 

Bossuet is in his house for five minutes before he ends up under the mistletoe with his great-great-aunt Josephine, who kisses him on his lips, much to his dismay. 

…  
“So, your grades are shit.” Grantaire’s dad said after Grantaire put his suitcase in his room. 

“I guess so.” Grantaire replied, wishing he’d stayed in his room. 

“Hmph. Still trying for art school?” His father asked. 

“Yep.” Grantaire said, popping the p at the end of the word. 

His father sighed, disappointed. 

… 

“So here’s a picture of Joly sleeping.” Musichetta said to her mom, showing her her phone, before swiping to the next picture, “And here’s Bossuet with a cat, a couple seconds before he gets clawed.” 

“So you’re still dating both of them?” Her mother asked, smiling. Musichetta nodded. 

“And they’re still dating each other!” 

“Leave it to my girl to get both the men of her dreams.” Her mother said fondly, petting her hair. Musichetta beamed. 

… 

Eponine and Gavroche had to take the greyhound back to the inn where their parents lived. Eponine sighed, seeing it. She hated this place with all her heart. 

“That’s a pretty necklace.” Her mother said, eyeing the silver thing around her daughter’s neck. Eponine wrapped her hand around it, holding it tight. 

“My friend gave it to me.” She said, “It’s mine.” 

“You know, we pay for you to go to that fancy school, you could at least help out.” Her mother said, examining Gavroche’s hat from Courfeyrac, before returning the worthless thing to Gavroche. 

“You don’t pay for shit, it’s taxpayer money!” Eponine yelled, the same argument every year. 

“Well, I’m a taxpayer, aren’t I?” Her mother asked. 

“Not if you look at the books.” Eponine grumbled, before dragging her suitcase upstairs. 

… 

Cosette sighed, alone in her room in Valjean's quarters at the Boy’s school. It was so quiet and peaceful without everyone. No one was destroying wall decorations that had been hanging up for centuries, no one was falling down an entire flight of stairs, no one was running frantically through the halls. She closed her eyes. 

She sighed again. It was too peaceful. She couldn’t wait until Christmas, when she could see all her friends again. 

… 

Enjolras hadn’t felt this nervous before, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest just thinking about it. He’d gotten home a couple hours ago, but just being here made him feel sick… The worst part, however, was that he hadn’t yet seen his father. He’d sent his chauffeur to go pick him up. Enjolras didn’t like car rides with his dad, but at the very least they could have gotten their confrontation out of the way with.

It was hard to explain. Enjolras sat down on his bed feeling practically violently ill. He’d already asked Combeferre and Courfeyrac both to come over, but he knew in a few hours they’d be there anyways and that they were currently busy with their own families. He honestly didn’t want them to find out about how shitty his relationship with his dad had gotten, but at the same time he knew they wouldn’t judge him. Enjolras at some point or another had developed quite a fear of his father… and it made it all the harder to come home. 

He wasn’t usually particularly violent. He had always been very intimidating and loud, Enjolras knew it, but this violence… it was somewhat new. As a child he’d receive spankings, or some small form of punishment, but as he got older that stopped. All until his senior year had began to approach. His father was furious with Enjolras for not having already started applying to colleges and had gotten kind of rough with him, shaking his shoulders to try and get the idea through his thick skull. Enjolras had been stressed though and he couldn’t make a decision right there. So his father got angrier. The bruises on his arms in the beginning of the year were proof that Enjolras’s father was terrifying.

And now, here he was, dreading the moment he’d have to see him when they were hosting a huge Christmas party at their house in just a few hours. Quite a few influential people would be attending the dinner including some of his friends and their parents, since they all were either very rich or held high positions in government, like Enjolras’s father, who was a state representative. He wanted to burst into tears, he couldn’t control his breathing. He managed to contain himself though, picking up his phone. Feuilly would be there too… he didn’t know Feuilly well enough though. His last hope was Grantaire. As much as he hated to make their situation even more awkward he had to call someone. He didn’t want to be alone.

_Hey, do you wanna come over early?_

Enjolras looked at it only once to make sure he’d spelled it right before he clicked send.

…

Grantaire got the text as he was getting ready early. He gave up trying to knot his tie in favor of frowning at the text and wondering what it meant. 

Was Enjolras going to tell him why his initial was next to Grantaire’s with a heart? Or maybe this was another text for their friends with benefits arrangement? Oh hell, it might just actually be a friend thing. 

Whatever the case, Grantaire was sure he’d need a drink afterwards. So he filled Eponine’s flask and headed out the door, telling his dad he’d be at Enjolras’s when the banquet thing started. 

… 

Grantaire arrived and texted Enjolras that he was there, unsure if he was supposed to ring the bell or what. 

Enjolras noticed the text when his phone vibrated in his palm, immediately causing him to pull himself off of his bed. He was already dressed himself, well, everything except the jacket, and his red tie was a little slack, but that could all be done moments before the party started. He gave himself one final look in the mirror, hoping that he didn’t look like total shit. To no surprise of his own, however, he did. His eyes were red rimmed and his hair and suit were disheveled from not being more careful as he’d tossed around in bed. He responded with ‘coming just wait there’ and ran down the stairs. When he opened the door his heart did some sort of pathetic flip that made him feel like he might throw up. He hadn’t been alone with Grantaire… since well, not in quite a while.

Enjolras wanted to explain everything to him right there and then but all he could manage was a small, “Hey.”

“Hey.” Grantaire said back, unsure what exactly was going to happen. “What’s up?” 

“Uh,” Enjolras felt like he was choking on his words, “I’d rather talk about it upstairs, if that’s okay with you.” Keeping his composure for these few brief moments was harder than he’d thought.

“Oh, okay.” Grantaire said, following the blond upstairs and to his room. He looked around, it was nothing like his dorm room. His dorm with Combeferre had posters and pictures all over the place, but this room felt kind of… bare. He sat down on the bed and looked up at Enjolras, who seemed like he was going to flip out at any second. What was going on?

“I’m really, really, really sorry for calling you over here. Just… Courf and Ferre were both busy and I’m just… on edge I guess.” Enjolras ran a hand through his hair, gripping it a little. He knew he was having some form of panic attack, but at the same time he didn’t want to admit that to Grantaire or himself. “Life has just been really shitty lately.”

Grantaire nodded, understanding. This was a friend thing. He could handle it. 

“So,” Grantaire said, pulling the flask out of his suit coat, “do you wanna talk about it or do you want to get a little drunk?” 

Enjolras looked at the flask, a sudden realization hitting him. Why hadn’t he thought of that himself? He was kind of glad it was Grantaire he’d called after all. He remembered the comfortably numb feeling he’d gotten last time from the wine coolers.

“Is it strong?” He doubt Grantaire would store something weak in such a small flask. Well, not that the flask was small, but it was smaller than your average bottle of alcohol. Grantaire nodded in confirmation, taking a drink, before passing it off to Enjolras. 

Enjolras drank a little more, actually, it was much more like a gulp, but he felt relieved at the fact that it was there, handing it back to Grantaire.

They passed it back and forth a couple times, before Grantaire looked at his watch. Ten minutes till the official start of the party. He handed the flask back to Enjolras. 

“Here, you keep this with you tonight. I’m gonna go downstairs, my dad’ll think I’m up to shenanigans if I come down at the last second.” Grantaire said, standing. 

“Thank you,” Enjolras said, holding the flask gratefully. He was definitely tipsy, but not enough that it completely impeded his ability to stand up and hug Grantaire. He only stumbled a little. “Seriously, thank you so much. I thought I was gonna die.”

Grantaire laughed. Enjolras was kind of a lightweight. “No problem.” He said, returning the hug. He soon extracted himself from Enjolras’s clinging arms and left, going to the table with his family’s notecard and claiming a seat. He saw Courfeyrac and Combeferre a couple tables away and waved, before going to mess around on his phone. 

The party started on time as planned, but the seat next to Enjolras’s father remained empty for quite some time. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were exchanging worried glances with each other throughout the meal, but finally, the blond decided to show himself. He was only a half hour late. 

Enjolras stumbled down the stairs, causing quite a noise when he nearly fell down them. Everyone’s eyes were on him now. No way to avoid this. The booze hadn’t exactly had the same effect as it had last time. Although he was comfortably numb he also was comfortably confident. 

“What… are you all staring at?” Enjolras managed to not slur, it must have been all those public speaking classes that still gave him some form of handle on his words even when he was obviously shit faced drunk. Nobody’s gaze had changed. Everyone was still looking at him. “Didn’t anyone… ever tell you… that it’s rude to stare?” He stumbled down a few more steps, “Didn’t you all go to fancy little prep schools that taught you about manners?” A few more. “Bunch of capitalist bourgeois pigs…” he muttered the last bit, but his drunken mutter was far more of a normal person’s average speaking level. 

Courfeyrac’s jaw dropped. He glanced at his boyfriend, whose face looked how Courfeyrac felt, who set his phone (which he’d been checking under the table) on his napkin and made a move to get up. Combeferre’s dad stopped him though, putting a hand on his arm. 

Grantaire watched as Enjolras’s father, someone he was always the slightest bit wary of at these functions, since he was a big shot senator and all, slowly got up to talk to Enjolras. 

Enjolras’s dad stalked over to his son, glaring. “To my office. Now.” He ordered. 

Enjolras’s drunken confidence faded from his face almost as quickly as it came. It was obvious to anyone that he was frightened, but especially to his friends, who knew him so well. He nodded a little, shuffling off trying his hardest not to stumble or cause any more of a scene as he went back up the stairs that he’d came from. It was not a side many of the Amis had ever seen of Enjolras- not the side that backed down without even a word.

When he got up to his father's office he sat down in the big chair across from his desk, sinking down. Oh he’d fucked up. His thoughts were still hazy though, so he wasn’t really sure how bad yet, but he was pretty sure it was bad. He rubbed his temples. If he just managed not to say anything stupid maybe it’d be okay.

… 

Back in the dining room, Courfeyrac and Grantaire shared a look. Courfeyrac was pretty sure that Grantaire was the one who got Enjolras drunk, causing all this, but he didn’t know. Grantaire looked almost as confused as Courfeyrac felt, so he might not have been the one to do it. 

As Enjolras’s father left the room to follow his son, Courfeyrac looked down at Combeferre’s phone, thinking to steal it to text Grantaire across the room. 

… 

“Julien.” Enjolras’s father said, when he walked in, causing Enjolras to jump a little. “What possessed you to do that?” 

“I… I don’t know…” he got up quickly, knowing he had to show his father more respect. Especially in this situation. He also knew however, that his answer was not good enough.

“You don’t know?” His father practically spat the words back at his son, his eyes becoming colder than usual.

“I don’t.” Enjolras would have to stick with it now. He backed up a little. His father was scaring him.

“That’s not good enough! Julien you disrupted the whole party because of your little drunken outburst and now I’m going to have to go down there and make amends! Do you know how hard I work to keep up appearances? I don’t need my son getting drunk and ruining everything in less than three minutes!” He stepped closer, knowing he was intimidating his son.

Suddenly, the confidence came back, brought on by anger, “Maybe if you weren’t such an asshole you wouldn’t have to keep up appearances-” Enjolras was abruptly cut off, a harsh, hard slap delivered to the side of his face. He wasn’t sure even if he was sober if he would have been able to keep his balance. Enjolras stared at the ground where he’d fallen as he held his stinging cheek.

“Don’t you dare come back down to the party. Stay in your room. Out of sight.” His father snarled. He didn’t wait for his son’s response as he stormed out of the room, ready to be the perfect host once more.

…

Courfeyrac looked down at Combeferre’s phone. They'd only been dating for a few months, but Courfeyrac was fairly confident in his knowledge of what Combeferre’s dick looked like. 

“Ferre, what's this?” He asked, pointing at the phone. Combeferre’s expression changed from “concerned about Enjolras” to “oh shit, I done fucked up.”

“Oh shit!” Combeferre hissed, locking the screen and checking to be sure his parents hadn't seen it. “Fey, I can explain.”

“Dude, that picture had like three hundred notes. What the fuck? Pictures of my actual face only get three!” Courfeyrac complained, bringing their parents attention back to them for a moment.

“What's going on?” Courfeyrac’s mom asked.

“Nothing!” Combeferre said quickly.

Enjolras’s father came back into the room, distracting everyone once more by making some offhanded comment about Enjolras being sick and teenage rebellion. Courfeyrac noticed Grantaire say something to his father, before leaving in a direction nowhere near the closest bathroom. Where was he going?

…

Enjolras sat on his bed, resting his chin on his knees. He felt like shit. He looked like shit. He certainly didn’t have his act together either, to say the least. His face hurt, and he knew there was a very red, somewhat swollen handprint on it, but nothing that wouldn’t go away overnight. Still, Enjolras felt uneasy. His father… it wasn’t very often at all he’d consider raising a hand to his own son. And yet here he was, just when he thought he was about to cry, he heard someone coming down the hall. Every part of his consciousness went to praying it wasn’t his father.

Grantaire walked into the room, not thinking to knock. He noted Enjolras’s slightly scared expression and the red handprint. 

“Hey,” he said, thinking he would try to lighten the mood with some humor, “I sensed that someone was being drunk and emo so I came as soon as I could.”

Enjolras scoffed slightly, rubbing his eyes, “Oh hush.” He sighed a little, “But thanks.” He just wanted calm now. He was tired and sad. He sort of wished it could be like when he and Grantaire had first started hanging out together in the crawlspace, but he also knew it wasn’t ever really going to go back to that.

Grantaire sat next to Enjolras on the bed, close enough that their legs were touching, but he wasn't sure if he was supposed to put his arm around him or not. With Joly and Bossuet he would, but Enjolras might mistake it for him coming on to him. His decision was made for him by Enjolras, who leaned against him, resting his head on the artist’s shoulder and sighing miserably. 

“My dad used to do that too, you know.” Grantaire said, putting his arm around the blond, “Back when he cared about my grades. When I'd talk back he’d slap me. I guess it's a rich kid thing.” 

“I guess so.” Enjolras nodded a little. He didn’t want to make it seem like he had it worse. He honestly didn’t know, so all he did was lean in closer to Grantaire, feeling surprisingly comfortable as he closed his eyes. He didn’t really want to talk. Just to stay like this.

...

The next day was Christmas, and in the evening-after they’d gotten their presents from their families and shared in the Christmas spirit-the Amis went to go to church with Valjean. 

They were going to Saint Augusta Catholic Church, the one most central to all of their locations. No one attending this field trip was Catholic, but that wasn’t about to stop them. 

Valjean got them all seated in the back. He knew that they’d cause some kind of commotion and he was trying to limit the damage. Right off the bat, Joly was coughing. It was probably because of the incense or something, but Valjean sighed to himself. That would be very annoying to the other churchgoers. 

There was a children’s choir in the front of the church on some risers, and they led all of the songs during the Mass. It was mostly renditions of “Away in a Manger” or “Go Tell It On The Mountain”. Songs Cosette had loved as a child. It was relaxing. He could zone out Cosette and Marius holding hands and giggling quietly, and the louder sounds of Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta doing the same thing. 

In the middle of Valjean’s zen, however, Bossuet was given the plate for the offering. The other kids had put in a couple dollars, and the priest was still going on about Christmas in his sermon. Everything was going well, until Bossuet dropped the metal thing and all the money fell out, the plate rolling away and the money scattering noisily. Everyone looked back at their group and Valjean smiled awkwardly. 

“Lord give me strength.” Valjean whispered to the cross where Jesus was hanging at the front of the church, before helping everyone pick up the money. 

Things seemed to go well after that. A couple more songs, happened. Grantaire and Jehan were drawing rather crude pictures of Jesus being birthed. It was at least a little better. 

Then, right before the ushers were about to lead everyone up for the Holy Communion, something possessed Bahorel to pick up a bible, _a bible_ and hit Feuilly with it as hard as he could. The sound echoed through the church and everyone looked back at them for the second time. 

“Bahorel, Feuilly. If you’re going to act like children, then you’ll have to go to the children’s room.” Valjean said sternly, sending them off to the room where parents went when their babies were crying. 

Communion started and everyone slowly made their way to the front of the church. Valjean was at the front of the group, so he didn’t see Grantaire-who was second to last of the Amis-grab the wine goblet, which was about five times the size of a normal wine glass, and drink all but one little sip. He left that sip for Enjolras, shooting the blond a shit-eating grin, before walking away. 

Enjolras took the last sip, and the woman behind him in the little line glared at him as if he was the one who drank the whole thing. Enjolras sighed in exasperation, but smiled a little fondly afterwards. It’s not like this whole church thing meant anything to him anyways. 

After Communion, Valjean had a little bit of hope that everything would go well. The priest said a few things in closing, blessing the congregation, and they all were given candles to hold while they sung “Silent Night”. This was Valjean’s favorite part of Christmas service, and he was sure there was no way for his favorite students to mess it up. 

He wasn’t exactly wrong. Joly took away Bossuet’s candle before he lit himself on fire. Nothing got destroyed. But after the priest said his whole “Go in peace, serve the Lord” thing, he noticed that he no longer had a candle to return. 

In fact, Eponine and Gavroche seemed to have stolen about thirty little church candles, they discovered when they were a few blocks away from the church. 

“I’m never taking any of you anywhere again.” Valjean sighed, but he smiled. 

“Well, we can still take you places! Let’s go get some hot cocoa, O Captain.” Courfeyrac said, and everyone agreed, walking towards some Starbucks that was still open on Christmas. 

Well. Things always could have gone worse. 

… 

Soon it was time to go back to school again and break was over. Enjolras had pointedly avoided his friends for the remainder of break, his father having finished up his scolding right after he got home from the church. And that had left him with a pretty obvious black eye. He had hoped for the best, that it would go away before he had to go back to school, but it’d done anything but, a little bit darker and more purple than it’d started out.

Soon enough Enjolras found himself in his dorm room, unpacking his things once more. He’d arrived well before Combeferre so he could mentally prepare himself to dodge the questions that would no doubt surround his black eye. He hadn’t, however, prepared for Grantaire to be back so soon, or to visit him.

“Hey Enj, I just wanted to… what happened to your face?” Grantaire asked, forgetting what he was going to say to stare at the blond’s huge purplish-green eye. 

“Oh,” Enjolras couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh, “Nothing bad. Just my dad, I guess.” He shrugged it off, going back to unpacking his things.

“Your dad did that to you? Shit man, I thought he just slapped you once! What the hell?” Grantaire said, walking closer with a concerned look. He touched Enjolras’s face, making him stop unpacking at look at the artist. “No one is allowed to hurt you like that. Not while I’m around.” 

Enjolras had thought Grantaire understood him, otherwise he couldn’t have let the secret go so easily, not he just felt the need to defend himself. “Well, you weren’t around.. Really it’s nothing.” He didn’t want to hurt Grantaire’s feelings, but he did want to distance himself.

“A black eye isn’t nothing!” Grantaire said, “Look, I know you probably feel weird about being around me, since you obviously know how I feel about you, but just listen. You have to tell someone about this!” 

Grantaire was under the impression that Enjolras knew about his crush, and had been mocking him in some way with the R<3 E on the wall. No, not mocking. That would be cruel. More like calling him out on it. He could find no other reasonable explanation for the thing. 

“What do you mean know how you feel about me? I don’t know anything other than the fact that you clearly have a thing for Eponine, and not me. I’m not avoiding you because of whatever you think! I’m avoiding you because it hurts knowing that you don’t feel the same way that I do! Not to mention how embarrassing it was having all the Amis see that stupid thing I wrote on the wall…” Enjolras had not meant to pour his heart out. But alas, there it was, lying on the ground in front of him in a puddle. His cheeks burned. Well, now Grantaire knew how he really felt.

“You think I like Eponine?” Grantaire asked, “Dude, I’m in love with you.” 

Enjolras didn’t know how to deal with that information, so he ran out of the room. He didn’t know where he was going until he got to Courfeyrac and Marius’s room, where he opened the door, only to see Courfeyrac and Combeferre facing away from him, looking at pictures of dicks on the internet. 

“Dude, how did yours get like four hundred notes? Mine only got twelve!” Courfeyrac was complaining. Enjolras left before either of them saw him, not wanting them to ask about his eye. 

He ran to the only other place he could think of. The hideout. It was empty when he got there, and he thanked whatever god there was that kept Grantaire away. He curled up next to the stupid writing on the wall and cried, hiding his face in his arms. 

Fifteen minutes later, Grantaire was headed for the hiding place, going to get some booze and head to Eponine’s to bitch about life and Enjolras. When he opened the door and saw Enjolras sitting there, crying, his plans changed. 

“Enj… Hey, Enjolras.” Grantaire said softly, kneeling in front of the blond. Enjolras looked up, tears streaming down his face. “I’m sorry.” 

Enjolras’s shoulders trembled as he cried, making him hold himself even tighter, but when Grantaire came in, he tried his hardest not to look as pathetic. He couldn’t stop it though, “No, I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I just try to hide everything, I don’t even know why I bother, it never works out.”

He looked over at Grantaire again, noticing how concerned he was and tried to stomach explaining himself, “It’s just… my dad… he’s always been a dick… Kind of rough and things like that, but… well honestly he never did anything serious. But right before school started he got angry with me for not doing anything about my future and he grabbed me pretty hard and shook me a little. It’s not any different than usual, except that it left some pretty bad bruises. Combeferre even asked me about those, but I didn’t tell him the truth either. They’ve always known about my dad, but they didn’t know he was this bad…”

“So when I got to school this year I was just really stressed out. Then I found the hideout… Then you… And things were kind of better until I got drunk one night and kind of realized I’d fallen for you and I felt like a complete dork, but I was drunk as hell and feeling all Marius-y so I drew that stupid E and the heart. But… even knowing that you do like me back… I can’t do anything about it. After what happened at the party… I don’t want to risk what my father would do to me. It’s selfish, I know. But I’m scared. And I have a right to be every once in awhile, don’t I?” Enjolras was getting himself all worked up again, “I thought the slap was going to be it, but then it came up again and I got this stupid thing I can’t even hide.” He laughed a little through the tears, “I hate being scared.” He sniffled, looking away again. 

Enjolras wanted Grantaire. He wanted his comfort, he wanted everything that they had had before this had started, but he also knew if his dad found out he’d be done for. The man cared about his public image as if it were his actual son. If he had a gay son- especially since he was conservative- oh, it would not go over well at all. Enjolras knew that more than well enough.

“I’m sorry. It’s all so stupid… I’m so stupid…” he mumbled, resting his face against his knees.

“Oh, no! Enjolras, you’re not being stupid.” Grantaire said, wrapping his arms around the curled up teen. It was a weird position, but he didn’t know how else to comfort him. Enjolras uncurled enough to put his face on Grantaire’s shoulder to sob. “Shhh… Don’t cry.” 

Enjolras didn’t really stop, but he did manage to sit in more of a normal position, wrapping his arms tightly around Grantaire. He hugged him tightly, finding the feeling comforting. Finally the tears slowed down and he eventually stopped crying entirely. 

“I just really wish it could work out… it’s even worse knowing that it’s not just me.” he sighed deeply.

“I mean… You can shoot this down and I won’t be at all upset, I understand why you wouldn’t want to do this, but maybe we could… try? Dating? We don’t have to tell anyone. We don’t even have to tell the Amis! But I want to be here for you.” Grantaire said, kind of wishing he could take his words back the moment they came out of his mouth. Enjolras wouldn’t want that.

“I…” Enjolras hadn’t even considered it to be possible… to keep it a secret. He wouldn’t mind his friends knowing- no, of course not. They were his friends, he didn’t care. They were also at boarding school and soon they’d be going to college… Enjolras was quiet for a very long time, perhaps longer than Grantaire was comfortable with but he’d began to analyze his situation a little more tactfully. When he’d finally mulled it over long enough in his head he looked back up at a very worried looking Grantaire, giving him a soft smile. “I’d like that. And, I don’t mind the Amis knowing…” It was more than anyone pursuing Enjolras’s heart could have ever hoped for. He was always so peculiar when it came to these things.

“Oh thank god.” Grantaire sighed, untensing himself. He thought he might have broken the blond’s brain or something. “I didn’t know if I would be able to keep that from Joly and Bossuet.” He said, trying not to let Enjolras know how freaked out he had been of the possible rejection, despite his earlier claims that he’d be fine. 

“But- please don’t tell anyone… about my father.” Enjolras knew the others would be worried but he really still did want to keep it to himself. He’d allow himself that amount of selfishness.

Grantaire sighed. Enjolras had a stressful day, he’d save this argument for later. “Sure.” He said, “But you have to tell them eventually. I’m not saying like next week, but sometime you have to tell at least Combeferre and Courfeyrac.”

The blond nodded, deciding not to protest for the same reason, and they sat in silence for a moment. 

“How are you going to explain the black eye?” Grantaire asked eventually. 

Enjolras had been trying to think of an excuse for that since the moment he’d gotten it, but the best he’d been able to come up with was pretty lame. Courfeyrac might believe him, but there’s no way Combeferre would. “I… ran into a door?” God. It sounded even stupider said aloud. “No, you know what, I don’t know what to say…”

Grantaire shrugged, “I don’t know, but we’ve got to think of something.” They sat in silence trying to figure something out for a minute, when Grantaire got an idea. “Okay, so this is what we’ll tell them…” 

… 

When Enjolras and Grantaire arrived at the Musain’s back room to hang out with their friends, they were holding hands. No one really noticed that as much as Enjolras’s eye, however. 

“How the fuck did you get a black eye?” Courfeyrac asked, concerned. “I swear to god, we leave you alone for five minutes…” 

Enjolras laughed a little, “I kind of snuck up on Grantaire and scared him a little.” He felt a little bad about lying, but Grantaire had engineered this one himself, “He ended up screaming like a girl and elbowing me in the face.” He laughed more. He almost felt like it were true, and Courfeyrac had appeared to accept it.

“Wait, why are you holding hands though? I mean I know that getting a black eye is a bonding experience, but…” Joly asked. 

“Well, after I elbowed him in the face I kind of went a little crazy on helping him out. And I asked if I could kiss it better. And now we’re kind of together.” Grantaire said, sheepishly running his free hand through his hair. 

“Wait, so the ‘E’ on the wall was for Enjolras? Not Eponine? Grantaire, you’ve made me look like a fool!” Bahorel cried, upset that his little friends were not getting together as he planned. Feuilly just rolled his eyes, having known that Grantaire was gay from the get go. 

“Starting the relationship off with a healthy dose of domestic violence, nice.” Feuilly commented, making the others laugh a little, even if the laugh was a little awkward from Enjolras and Grantaire. 

“So, did you get any ugly Christmas sweaters?” Bossuet asked, to which both of them shook their heads. “Darn. We were giving them all to Jehan. He seemed really upset when he got back, I think it’s because of his parents and the hair.”

Grantaire glanced over at Jehan who looked very happy in some yellow plaid jeans and a big, purple sweater with a bunch of badly embroidered snowflakes and the word “Laigle” across the chest. 

“That’s a nice sweater, Jehan!” Grantaire called over, making Jehan stick his tongue out at him across the room. 

Enjolras smiled, honestly ready to sigh in relief, but he saw Combeferre silently staring at them, not seeming to buy the story 100%. Whatever concerns he had, however, he didn’t voice them.

…

The next day, classes started up again. They all filed into Valjean’s class, as usual, and waited for their teacher. 

Valjean walked in and Courfeyrac stood to say “O Captain, My Captain.” when Javert’s voice came on over the speakers. 

“Jean Valjean, report to my office immediately.” Javert said, before the intercom shut off. 

“One moment, class.” Valjean said, walking out the door. After a moment Courfeyrac sat down. 

“Oh no. It sounds like he’s in trouble.” Joly said, voicing what they were all thinking. 

“Nah, it’s Valjean! He can’t be in trouble.” Feuilly tried, though he wasn’t sure. 

“Didn’t he say he was in jail once though?” Grantaire asked, pointing out the obvious flaw in their argument. 

“Yeah, but he was proved innocent.” Enjolras countered.

Courfeyrac took Combeferre’s hand. He was worried. 

Valjean entered the classroom a few minutes later, to silence. He glanced at the dread-filled eyes of his class, but before he could speak there was a scraping noise as one of the students pushed back their chair and stood on it. 

Valjean expected it to be Courfeyrac. He was almost right, as it was Combeferre, standing on top of his chair with his hand on his chest. 

“O Captain, My Captain.” He said, his face serious. Valjean burst into laughter. Combeferre hopped off the chair while Courfeyrac joined Valjean in his laughter. 

“Oh, Combeferre. I expected that from Courfeyrac, but you? Sweet Jesus, I need to sit down.” He said, sitting in the chair behind his desk. “And the expression? Oh, what am I going to do when you graduate, boys?”

“Cry.” Bahorel said, grinning. 

“Probably.” Valjean agreed. “I was called in because when we elected to not do permission slips for the Christmas field trip, apparently we were breaking some sort of rule. No parents complained though, so it doesn’t really matter. Javert just likes to follow rules to the letter.” 

… 

Enjolras smiled to himself as he leaned against Grantaire. All the Amis were gathered in the Musain talking amongst themselves, seeming to be fairly happy and comfortable once again. And for the first time in quite a while, Enjolras was happy and comfortable too. The black eye was fading and he felt relaxed and at ease with Grantaire, and no longer quite as uneasy around his friends now that he’d told his secret to Grantaire. In fact, he’d go so far as to say he thought everything was going to be fine. That was of course, until Jehan came into the Musain, holding Montparnasse’s hand in his as he led him inside.

“Guess what guys,” he beamed, “Montparnasse and I are dating again!” The Amis all seemed mildly surprised, but were congratulatory except for one short blond in the back, Gavroche, giving Montparnasse a death glare. Enjolras laughed a little, well, the year wasn’t over yet. It still had enough time to be interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> SpinalBaby and I (FredAndGinger) kept seeing all these fab posts all over Tumblr and decided to write a fic about them (including a little boarding school and Enj problems that we were already planning on writing). So here are our citations:
> 
> [jaunjoltaire](http://juanjoltaire.tumblr.com/) (Enj and R Characterization)  
> [infinite-mirrors](http://infinite-mirrors.tumblr.com/) (Courf and Ferre Characterization)  
> [allrightwithyou](http://allrightwithyou.tumblr.com/) (Enj's drunk self)  
> [bonerpartist](http://bonerpartist.tumblr.com/) (Christmas)  
> [combeferes](http://combeferes.tumblr.com/) (assorted headcannons)  
> [starfieldcanvas](http://starfieldcanvas.tumblr.com/) (Marius's lack of a brain to mouth filter)  
> [orestesblasting-pyladesfunk](http://orestesblasting-pyladesfunk.tumblr.com/) (Courf's dating history)  
> [colorfeels](http://colorfeels.tumblr.com/) (stealing Christmas candles)  
> [electroboy](http://electroboy.tumblr.com/) (Drunk Enj at a banquet)  
> [vanyaliful](http://vanyaliful.tumblr.com/) (R and Enj in a closet)  
> [littlewadoo](http://littlewadoo.tumblr.com/m) (Marius and Courf under the bed)  
> [rouvere](http://rouvere.tumblr.com/) (Gav's crush on Jehan)


End file.
